Month: April 2021

I recently had the pleasure of breaking words with an old mentor, and chieftain in his own right.

This is a man of the lycurgan creed. Of the wolf-moon and horned-god. 

He shares his spoils with those who he knows to be true. 

Those who dance around their own fires and howl at the world that has deemed them villains… and all those who dare speak to their ilk. 

This man asked me of Halithaz, and how we grow.

He asked me what this :new way: intends to lead to…

And I gave him the only answer. 

Having known me for many years, he has bore witness to my growth, and aided me whenever needed along that path.

He sees now the torch must pass on, and I intend to do so with the utmost glory.

And he then, with understanding of my cause revealed to me a sacred blade. It came in the form of words.

Not to wound, and not to threaten, but to further arm an old pupil on the same path he took years before. 

They formed as such:

“I know you and yours. And I know you know much beyond what you write of. Do not cull your writings to fit inside the heads of lesser men. They will know, or they will not.”

And there we have it.

Advice to crack the heavens.

Advice to melt away the frost of winter, and bring forth the seeds of spring.

ᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝ

SPROUT MANY BY THE
:ᚩ: :ᚨ: :ᚦ:

ᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝᛝ

In the damp, frost-plagued earth did my mind and spirit coax new, old, and very powerful seeds towards the surface and forefront of my mind. 

So that one day they might sprout towards the great skyfather that we all shall meet someday. 

If my words become like fleeting snowflakes towards your mind; and they melt too quickly to see patterns of note implanted upon the brain, then I apologize and you are not yet of a similar mind to the rest of us.

But I do so press forward now; for those capable of understanding the ramblings of this soldier of the SUBLIME ARCHON (αρχ-). 

Spring is dead.
Long live the spring!

The time for :I: is dying. 

The feast to come is just beginning to take form. 

I pity those who have not taken the proper Apollonian precautions needed.

The duties required inorder to move forward and earn their Lon Laith within this most glorious summer.

THIS IS YEAR ZERO OF THE TRUE NBA (THE NEON BRONZE AGE)

…But do you make the roster?

If you have not prepared, then you will simply not attain the true warmth and might of this glory. 

And no one will be to blame but yourself.

Look to the signs.

Is it not true that the world now splits between those who understand and those who do not?

Is it not true that with every passing day this reality becomes more and more uncanny?

Theseus has entered the labyrinth, and there is no turning back. 

Evil is here my friend. And Yet so is the light. 

Science of the modern era has even heralded this. Only one week ago was there seen a massive solar flare from the great ⊕. 

This inevitably gifts unto all humans of this era the boons, and power of hearty

                                                                 :SOLAR WINDS:

I wish to leave none in the dark and cold. 

Though now me and the others press upwards and onwards towards the :highest peak:

We move to greet the Archon and bask in the boons of what is about to be unleashed upon this great green earth of ours.

THE :JUPITER PRIMUS: IS UPON US 

If you seek to join us then I urge you to take bedside by this dying spring.

Follow these tasks, and see yourself further prepared for what is to come:

In opposition of the unbridled chaos of the flail, the tempered blade of order stands gleaming

I’ve previously delved into the all too often dismissed force that is chaos and its place in the natural cycle. Its role in the balance between order and disorder. In my last piece, I talked about the flail and its absurd potential for destruction. I also discussed how to utilize it’s chaotic and destructive potential. To direct that potential, and use it to further your own self in a positive, uplifting sense. I’m now choosing to shift the focus into the Apollonian side, and delve into the force of order, it’s relation to chaos, and it’s role along the Halithazian path.

As chaos is the flail, order is the sword. The fusion of order and disorder is the hero seed. 

If chaos is the force which shakes the foundation of everything in our world view, order is the binding force which draws it back together. The storm will not rage forever, eventually the beaming rays of the sun will pierce the black clouds above. The winds are dispelled and warmth, balance and control once again returns to the realm. 

Order within our minds manifests as discipline, control, calculation and execution. We cannot allow the forces of chaos to completely overpower our will for improvement and mastery, and so order comes in as a staunch reminder of our endless journey upward. The sword is the perfect symbol for this from it’s very nature and design. A shining, well crafted blade of steel, pointed skywards in a symbol of masculine potential. A deadly omen of the disciplined hero. 

One does not have to look far to see the use of the sword as a symbol of the hero archetype within the realms of history, fantasy and myth. The sword Gram, which Sigurd used to slay the dragon, Fafnir. Andúril, the Flame of the West, wielded by Aragorn II, heir of Isildur. Or perhaps one of the most well known examples, Excalibur of Arthurian legend. Tales and stories of men of great fortitude carrying these great weapons against imposing odds. Using the blade they carry with them to dispel the forces of evil. Introducing order where chaos has run far too rampant is necessary. The slavering beast with smoke emanating from its nostrils stands above our gallant Knight. As such, so often the forces of chaos can seem equally imposing.

We must train to utilize the blade of order effectively, just as we do the flail. A well-tempered sword is a deadly enough instrument of its own to be sure, but made all the more imposing in the hands of a competent wielder. Introducing order and discipline into your life is the equivalent of arming yourself with your own Excalibur, your own Andúril. It is your steadfast will, weaponized into a thing of regality and excellence. 

You possess the ability in everything you do. This is your time spent training your body in whatever way possible. The effort you put into eating REAL food that’s going to make that training worthwhile. The opening and sharpening of your mind through reading and meditation. These are not dissimilar from the master bladesmith, toiling away in his forge to craft the perfect blade. Just as his quest for the perfect steel is never ending, so is yours toward the perfect version of yourself. This is what keeps you going. 

Chaos is a part of life. It can be truly tempting and truly destructive. It’s only natural for all of us to revel in it’s erotic embrace from time to time, but never let it consume you. Keep a level head of discipline even where it seems there is none. As fun as the flail may be to swing, never forget that the steel by your side is the backbone. It’s the ultimate tool you have for keeping chaos in balance, for smiting the demons ahead. It’s your own personal ascension. 

Who is the man who wields both the Blade of Order and the Flail of Chaos?

A Barbaric Aristocrat? A well-off gentleman leaving his study to go clobber his friends bare knuckled in the cellar?

A Drunken Templar? A trained swordsman of the cross, struggling to undo his piss soaked britches during a night of debaucherous indulgence?

An Apollonian Madman? The musclebound lunatic who drops his rusty barbell onto green grass, freshly cracked White Claw pouring down his stark naked husk?

He could be all of these things, or none of them. It’s your steel, it’s your iron ball and chain. Understand both, and wield them as you will.

Keep your steel sharp, your blade hand swift, and may your target be smitten.

There is an area at the very top of England that was once known as ‘Yr Hen Ogledd’. This translates into the modern tongue as ‘Old North’ reasonably well. 

It was here that Ida and his offspring of Anglisc blood would fight, settle, and dominate for many generations. 

As you can imagine, there was much renown and glory to be found in the act of conquering amongst these warrior tribesmen. It was not uncommon for particularly powerful and aggressive rulers to gain nicknames. 

There was one amongst Ida’s line that was known to history (according to ‘Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum’) as ‘Flesaur’ meaning ‘The Twister’. 

Fucking hell… 

Imagine being such a man. Imagine being such a barbarous chad that you are remembered throughout time as ‘The Twister’ for your battle ferocity, and ability to ravage and decimate the Welsh. 

What’s stopping you from crushing your opponents and claiming their lands with such power that your deeds resonate well past your death? Well I suppose that’s an article for another time. 

You might be a fine young man. You might be even more than a fine young man, but how are you to withstand the gullet of Cronos/Time? 

How would this man have been remembered if not for the renown and resonance that found its roots on the tongues of poets and in the resonant strings of the bard?

How do you presume to carve a legend out of yourself without the aid of whispers and tunes?

The fact of the matter is that music is simply magic. Songs are spells, and words carry the meaning behind the victors first to final sword strike. They are the psalms that send the peasantry to their deaths in the name of a king. They are the words that plant the seeds of hubris within all inherited crown wearers. 

They are the beginning and the end.

Any man that has not found it so has never been remembered.

Any society that has not valued beauty has settled into a mass of conquerable dough. 

Like veins all across ancient England did the bards and poets flow from kingdom to kingdom, bringing news of perils, victories, magic and power. 

Sagas  from the North demonstrate to us that even well into the iron age did our ancestors understand the weight and power of song. I urge you to read Egill Skallagrímsson’s ‘Head Ransom’ poem for further proof of this.

:THE BARD: is an archetype that cannot be underestimated in any courtroom that wishes to thrive. 

He is your conduit from the self to higher self; from highborn to lowborn; from victor to loser.

The bard imitates the holy psychopomp. He is the wanderer who carries with him the spirit of somewhere else. And he is loved for this, and treated as holy.

Think of rockstars. I’m not even talking about the famous ones. Consider your lowly thrash metal band on the road. They are poor, they stink, they have addictions… and they still fuck. You can take my word for that. 

Fame is granted to those who carry the magic within their heart, and wherever there is beauty there will be music.

:THE BARD: will sing of your many undertakings, he will romanticize in the most important way possible all of your tales, and deeds. 

This Archetype is necessary for your court, for he will remind you of all you have already done, and take those songs with him wherever he might travel. 

The power of Taliesin is paled by no other force within your realm.

And yet he is mocked, along with everything else by the antithesis of Romanticized triumph.

For across the room at his polaropposite position sits the grinning, and fearless mockery alchemist.

:THE JESTER: can make or break you. As Loki storms into the halls of the great one, and insults his way into the events that conclude with the ending of the world… so too does every jester enter his King’s royal court. 

Mockery, and comedy is a spell that many fear far more than they will ever admit. For if you cannot laugh at yourself, and your deeds, and your goals, and your life… then it will all be in vain. 

There is a world of difference in the west from when Christianity went relatively unchecked by any Jester Magic, to when Monty Python decided to throw the molotov into the stain glass of the basilika, and the label on that bottle read ‘The Life of Brian’.

Contemporary Christianity showed its weakness that day, by its lawsuits, and weak death throes upon the cackling band of British Jesters. 

A true king fears naught. And in the sullen court where the King banishes or kills his fool, all will agree in silence that it was the Jester that revealed his crown to be naught but piss and shit.

The final act of the fool is revealing his severed head to hold your crown, as you sit angrily upon the throne wearing his bell-tethered, and jingling hat.

Like a wild beast the fool might try and find weakness. It is uncomfortable.

Often his jests mimic that of the peasant’s who finds passage through the knight’s shining armor with the plunge of his rusty dagger upon a field of mud and gore. 

It should be understood by all who follow the Germanic tales of the gods that these are tales of the inner world. Odin Wolfhead is a sworn blood brother to the chaos that is Loki Jester. This is the creator befriending the mockery/chaos.

This Archetype is not evil. Its intent is not to destroy, but to discover cracks, and to push limits. It is from the chaos that we might have had the big bang, or the fire that met ice. You must find this jester amusing, and you must listen to him carefully.

He will antagonize, and strip you bare, while the bard only wishes to sing you the songs of praise, and glory.

Both are crucial, and both will balance you whilst you seek entertainment and self indulgence. Meditate upon the jokes, and hum the tunes as you assess your next moves. 

The inner you is a gnarled figure. He has seen much darkness, and he wears the armor and scars to prove his descent into the darkest areas of your mind and world. 

He is :The Wolfhead King: and he seeks the highest light. 

He searches for the true god. He searches for the :The Solar King: 

He chases him round and round the mortal coil (axis mundi).

In-turn, he often feels like he runs from this figure. For what man can say he has only ever stuck to the path of light?

 We all run, sometime or another. For this is the way of all. We share the memoriam sanguinis of Aragorn.

The good news is that the simple act of fleeing is enough for the inner you to rouse a slumbering conscience. It is not too far-fetched to claim that a character such as Jiminy Cricket can be seen as ‘the guide’ archetype manifest. The wizard, the elder, whatever you like really.

For many of these archetypes that call to us have similar goals and boons to attain from coaxing us into certain paths of thought and memory. It is fallacy to believe them to be one in the same.

It is also important to note the clever trick of Disney to manifest his guide archetype into the form of a bug. For whose conscience does not ‘bug’ them? 

When you run from fate, you understand this is wrong. 

These guide archetypes call for you, and care for you deeper than you know.

Keep them in your court, and treat them well. But also understand that these figures are not always of the same mind.

I speak now of those closest to your ear as you sit upon your sullen throne. To your left stands :THE CHIEFTAIN: and to your right :THE WANDERER: 

For out of all the various emissaries of :Ansuz: these two stand to be the most powerful and effective when your goal is to obtain order and higher-self magic.

It is folly to assume all your archetypes are one and unified in their causes. Though these archetypes stand for similar points in their advice and council, they are themselves opposed, and at odds more often than not. 

Both of these archetypes have your closest seat. They are often the first you meet along your journey or path to kingship. Their goals are the same, to aid you and show you the path towards your fate. 

Yet their means of bringing you there are nothing alike, and in ways are quite opposite.

Observe, 

:THE CHIEFTAIN:
This archetype should be seen as a seasoned governor. He is familiar with all avenues of leadership, and has pledged to aid you through the art of justice and reason. He does not care to leave anything to fate, and his belief in cultural magic is seen as yet another tool towards garnering favor, and maintaining power. I speak of Earl Haraldson, Rogal Dorn, Roose Bolton, Marc Antony.

:THE WANDERER: 

This archetype stands for unrelenting fate and unseen magic. He is furtive, and deals in riddles. He is not afraid to toss you into the storm, and his reasoning to do so will never come from his own mouth, but discovered by you after the trial is completed. I speak of Merlin, Gandalf, Odin, Kaepora Gaebora.

These archetypes have guided heroes near and far, and through history, and myth. They are timeless, and they are separate entities that, quite often, are at odds with one another. But as any story will show you (where they are both present) there is an understanding that they are two arms of the same mechanism.

The hero will need them both in order for his teaching to be entirely complete, and for his rule to be truly just.

One must prove to be the axis in which these two wisdom feeders generate their magic. They spin round and round upon the hero’s soul.

More soon. 

The Chaos Flail 

If order is the sword, then as the symbol of chaos stands the flail. 

As a man of action, I understand the importance of maintaining a degree of discipline and a relatively staunch control over my actions, the Apollonian side of my nature. I am sure most reading this already have a solid understanding of the Apollonian and Dionysian dichotomy in regards to human behaviours, of the balance between the forces of order and disorder (Read “The New Way” by Ioan Eofor for excellent views on this).

For this thought piece I’m going to choose to focus on the latter. Chaos is an interesting thing. Chaos is the raging hurricane, it’s the tornado across the plains, it’s the bull in a fit of rage goring any unlucky enough to stand in its way. At the same time, I would argue it’s not only beneficial in controlled circumstances, but essential. 

  The sword stands true as a powerful symbol of order. The blade glistens as it points to the sky. Its inspiring presence is immediately recognizable as one of virility, of vigor. Its counterpart I will liken as the flail. The flail is a weapon as frightening as it is chaotic. It’s an absurd weapon, one that despite it’s intimidating aura was grossly impractical. The weapon is more entertaining fiction than anything and was rarely, if ever, used in actual combat historically. For that very reason however, I’m choosing it to represent chaos in a purely symbolic sense, so I implore you to keep that point in mind for the duration of this article. The morning star twirling around one’s head, the rattling of the chain. Its strike is devastating, for either the target or the wielder. Therein lies the nature of chaos. It is unpredictable, dangerous, and at its core absurd and almost comical in the sense of the damage it can inflict. At the same time, It invigorates, it sharpens the senses, it makes us feel alive. 

Where chaos becomes what I would consider to be detrimental is when it gains complete control over order. In human beings this manifests in a number of ways. Mental illness, violent abuse, addiction. The alcoholic man has completely caved to the forces of chaos. His Dionysian side now embodies his entire being as he descends further into disorder with every swig from the bottle. Chaos is rampant not just in our human microcosm, but in the world around us. Storms rage across the oceans, wildfires burn and blot out the sky with their smoke, and earthquakes shake and crumble that which our civilization has worked so hard to construct. 

Chaos is necessary. It is the second half of the whole, and must be respected and understood. It can consume an individual, destroy them if poorly understood, or uplift them if it is effectively controlled.  If you are to take an average person, and put a flail in their hands, and tell them to use it effectively there’s a good chance you’ll be making a mistake. There’s a good chance they will end up caving in their own skull before they even have a chance to hit the target. They must train themselves in the technique to swing it properly, armour themselves sufficiently as to avoid injury. Even so, the risk of the flail, due its very nature, is great. Someone who has trained with such an instrument is still at risk. No matter how adept you may think you are with this infernal device, you still run the risk of taking yourself out simply by using it. With the rattling of the chain as it twirls in air like an iron beacon of destruction it exudes the essence of chaos. As a force of disorder and destruction, it can be harnessed and used by a competent wielder to powerful effect. 

The wielding of the flail stands as the metaphor to us as individuals embracing the chaotic sides of ourselves, using it to uplift ourselves to greater levels without allowing it to consume us. Giving in to the chaos of your anger will result in damage to not only yourself, but those around you. However, by using it, harnessing it and learning to direct it in such a way that it becomes a motivating force, It gives you a reason to change things, a reason to improve an area of yourself that may be lagging behind. You wield the flail in times of grief, where you are overtaken with sadness, and rather than simply giving up and resorting to either a bottle or various other empty pleasures, you swing it around your head and use it to inspire yourself. To make yourself realize that it is your duty to keep swinging it to honour those that came before you. 

The Sword and the Flail. The duality of both weapons and their symbolism are icons of what us individuals along the good path hold close. Our discipline, our control, our tempered steel is in balance with the cumbersome, challenging destructive force of the morning star. But approach with caution. When swinging the chaos flail, you must take care. You must take the time and the initiative to understand both its potential for growth, and for self destruction. 

Keep your chaotic nature in check. Learn how it benefits you, and where its potential to destroy you lies, and learn to redirect its force into one of growth and betterment. 

Raise your flail arm, may your star strike true.